forty days. forty stories.
by Annie Bole
I hit the jackpot my freshman year at Shippensburg, when I was assigned a dorm room on a floor mostly comprised of upperclassmen, who welcomed us right into their group. Julie’s room at the end of the hall next to the heater was a common gathering place. There was no greater place to play cards, talk, occasionally study, and laugh. A lot.
Getting some “heater action” as some of us called it was how I got to know Julie better and learn that she was always up for anything. Many Thursday nights, we would traipse off to parties over on Orange Street and not return until the wee hours of the morning. That was when Julie proved herself to be the Renaissance woman we all know her to be. No matter how often she went out, she always (or almost always) made it to class, and did very well in school.
We cast our net a little farther the next summer when an opportunity presented itself to follow the Dead and sell t-shirts. Again, Julie jumped at the chance for an adventure and offered to let us travel the country in her station wagon, which was a very good thing since no one else had a car. Even though the wagon’s turn signals only worked intermittently, we barely had any money, and a very loose plan, we somehow made it home safe and sound with a lot of great memories.
I don’t get to see Julie very often, but when I do I absolutely love that we pick up right where we left off. It always feels like we were hanging out on the heater or I was her co-pilot in the wagon yesterday instead of 20 years ago.
Happy 40th Julie!!!!